


just for tonight, with you

by blankcamellia



Category: SixTONES (Band)
Genre: 3000 words of emotions, 400 words of the smut, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, Getting Back Together, M/M, but I promise there's an happy ending, he fucked up and realized his mistakes, it might be a rollercoaster, it's just a handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankcamellia/pseuds/blankcamellia
Summary: Taiga knew he fucked up big time, yet he can't help but run back to the only person who never judged him, who always stood by his side.Who always waited for him.Even when Taiga didn't.
Relationships: Kyomoto Taiga/Matsumura Hokuto
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	just for tonight, with you

_ I don’t care if it’s just for tonight, I just want to spend it with you. _

He doesn't even know why he's out in the rain, why he's even running, or why his eyes are wet. Is it the rain? Is it tears? The only thing he knows is that his heart is hurting, and it doesn’t stop at all. 

He wants to keep on running, running until he’s out of breath until he can’t think about anything else than the raw feeling of drawing air into his lungs until his head is free from the whirling thoughts, all the confusion. If he runs, his problems won’t catch up to him. There’s nowhere he can hide either because no matter where he is, they catch up to him. Eat him alive and make sure that he can’t see anything else but the curtains closing in front of his eyes. 

Water splashing around him as his feet take him somewhere, far away, far from his starting point, one step further away from his problems, from his fears. It’s heavy. He doesn’t know what’s weighing more, the cold around him, the water weighing him down in his drowned clothes, the wind picking up, making the hair on his skin stand up, or if the pain weighs more. He doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t know why his hands are shaking when he pulls out his ringing phone, barely registering the caller ID before he angrily swipes it away, there’s no need for more pain, more weight, or words. He just wants it all gone. 

He wants to see color again, and he wants to experience bliss, the rush of adrenaline when you laugh so much you forget what even caused it, the kind of feeling when you just keep laughing because you can and because it feels right, and he wants to find the pieces of his heart that weren’t complete but felt whole. 

Is it regret? Is it sadness? Is it pain? He’d answer yes to it all. He’d blame it all on the negative emotions and feelings he feels surging through him, but he knows it’s not.

It’s his stubbornness, his desires, and selfishness. 

There’s a scream inside his heart that he wants to let out, but there’s nothing coming out, not even when he picks up the pace and runs faster. Lights and eyes are passing by, bumping shoulders with people on the street, but he doesn’t care. For once, he doesn’t care. 

He wishes he could have not cared a long time ago too. 

Maybe it had been easier then.

Then, he sees it. The familiar gate, the exterior he’s seen so many times in the past and passed through the doors so many times too. It’s almost a relief when the door clicks open as he puts in the entry code. It hasn’t changed. 

His heart swells at the realization, trying to shake the hopeful thoughts away, but it’s hard. It’s hard because he can feel his body start to shiver for other reasons than the cold seeping through his clothes. There’s this small hint of happiness flickering somewhere in the distance, and he doesn’t want to see it. He doesn’t need it. 

The ride up in the elevator is long and silent, and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he can only smile. 

_ Ah, that’s fucked up. _

He knows it. He knows it better than anyone else how much he fucked up. He doesn’t need anyone to tell it to him or pity him, or side with him. He already knows it. 

There’s evidence of it everywhere. The press. His home. His friends. His phone. The web. His job. Everywhere. He fucked up big time, and he doesn’t need anyone to tell him so. 

Maybe that’s why he’s returning here. Back to where he first could breathe, where he could stretch his sore limbs and feel the world’s weight fall off his shoulders, where he could open his eyes and see the sun shining through the blinds on the window. Back where he didn’t have to care. 

There’s a pool of water beneath him, collecting drop by drop as he waits for the floors to pass by, and his reflection is almost mocking him. Drenched to the bone. Heartless and tired. A wreck. Like a fallen tree in a storm, still rooted to the ground, to the problem, but no longer standing tall. 

If he could, he would break the person he sees in the mirror, but he can’t. Because he’s already so broken, and it’s all his fault too. There’s no one else to blame.

The elevator comes to a stop finally, and his feet take him out of it faster than he can breathe, mind already knowing where to go, and the keys in his hand already jingle with anticipation. Or hope. Maybe something in between. 

He considers knocking on the door, hitting the doorbell, or even turning around, but the keys in his hand weigh heavy. Even heavier when he brings them up, slowly putting the key inside the keyhole, and when he turns it around while holding his breath, he thinks the world could just end right there. 

But it opens. 

The lock falls out of place, and the familiar sound of the door unlocking echoes in the empty hallway, and he lets his hand fall from the keys. 

They still fit. The keys still have a home.

One step back, two steps, even three steps back, and he can’t really wrap his head around it. It shouldn’t fit. 

The lock should have been changed a long time ago. Back when he turned his back to this place, so why does it still fit?

Why he still has the keys is also a question, but he rather not answer it even if he knows the answer.

And the answer pushes the door open, wondering out loud who it is because there shouldn’t be anyone with a key. Then, he utters his name, and his breath gets caught in his throat.

The way he says his name breaks his heart because it’s all he’s been dreaming of recently, to hear that raspy voice utter his name again, let his name roll off his tongue like before. He feels his cheeks get wet again, and he knows that he’s crying again, but it’s not out of sadness, it’s frustration.

Because how could he let it get this far? How could he be this stupid?

How could he leave a love so strong behind just because he wasn’t strong enough to hold it close and protect it?

He wants to answer it, wants to explain himself, but for who? Himself?

They’re three steps away from each other, a distance that feels further than anything they’ve encountered before, and it feels wrong to overstep any boundaries.

Then again, he’s already here. He’s back at Hokuto’s apartment, the same studio he used to stay at before life took him somewhere else. Before he turned into the world’s biggest coward and left him. Not without words at least, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Yet, Hokuto is right in front of him, looking just like the day he left him, and he can smell the faint scent of cigarettes from the younger, the cardigan he’s wearing slipping off his shoulders as if he tried to put it on properly before opening the door. And it all makes him think of the days they shared. 

He doesn’t know what to say, and his body refuses to run away. All he wants to is not care again. He doesn’t want to forget. He just wants not to care.

“You’re shaking,” Hokuto says in a small voice, and he can’t help but laugh at the way the younger is worried. Nothing has changed. 

He should be relieved, but he isn’t. It doesn’t change at all when Hokuto pulls him inside, guiding him to the bathroom, making him sit on the edge of the bathtub, and everything is still the same, and it pulls at his heart. It makes him shiver, not from the wet clothes, but from the coldness he’s been harboring within.

Hokuto places a towel on his head, gently drying his hair a while in silence before he turns to turn on the bathtub and fill it with water. 

He can hear the water dripping from his clothes hit the tiles on the floor, even with the water running in the background, and he doesn’t say a thing, not even when Hokuto starts to tug on his clothes. 

“Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes, okay?” 

He doesn’t know if he responds or not, but he lets Hokuto help him, and it takes everything out of him to not break down fully, let everything out. Because Hokuto’s kind eyes are what he’s been missing, his gentle touch, and his loving words.

It’s not until he’s submerged in hot water that he snaps out of it and looks at Hokuto properly for the first time that night. He grabs at the younger’s sleeve, preventing him from leaving the bathroom, and just stares at him, eyes wide with confusion, fear, and maybe hope. 

There are no words coming out of him despite all the words he wants to say: all the explanations, all the excuses, and the truth. 

He just looks at him with wide eyes, grip tightening around the sleeve, and he just wants things to go back to normal. 

“Don’t go,” he says the words that neither of them ever has said before, and they float heavily in the air between them. He feels the tension build between them, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Hokuto pushed him away, like he should have done a long time ago. 

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he gently pries off Taiga’s fingers from his sleeve, replacing it with his hand instead as he sits on the edge of the bathtub. He doesn’t say a thing, and he doesn’t have to. Taiga still knows how to read him. 

He runs his fingers through Taiga’s damp hair, combing through the knots, and his touch is burning against the cold skin of Taiga’s. It’s like a fireplace during winter, warming him up with comfort and protection.

He wants to cling to Hokuto, cling to his last escape from reality, or maybe it’s not even an escape. Maybe he’s been running away all the time until now. Maybe Hokuto was the reality from the beginning?

Hokuto stays by his side in silence, waiting for him to speak up, and he wants to. He wants to tell him all that happened since he left, all the regret, all the sadness, all the pain, everything that he’s been through.

But he knows that it’s not what the other wants to hear. 

Hokuto will listen, he knows that, so it’s not about that. 

Maybe it’s more about the fact he doesn’t know what to say, or what he doesn’t want to admit out loud. 

He should say he’s sorry for leaving him. Say he’s sorry for being a coward. Say he’s sorry for not putting up a fight; for choosing the wrong road down life. Things weren’t worth it. He should have stayed; he should have stood up, should have fought for his love, should have stayed on the road he first chose. There’s so much he should say, but he doesn’t know where to start. 

Tomorrow, it might be different. Tomorrow, Hokuto might hate him, if he doesn’t already, and that would break him, but he would understand. It would be understandable. He wouldn’t blame him. But tonight.

“I don’t care if it’s only for tonight, I just want to spend it with you,” he whispers through Hokuto’s gentle caresses, and when they stop, they lock eyes with each other. All this time, Hokuto has always been the one who understood him the most, even better than he knows himself. This time is no exception.

There’s a spark igniting between them again, something he hasn’t seen in a while, something he’s missed, and when he mouths a ‘please’, it’s all it takes for Hokuto to lean down and capture his lips like he used to do all the time. 

He can taste the nicotine in the kiss, the familiar taste so comforting, and he misses the nights when they used to stay up together, sharing one cigarette on the balcony under the dim light and hidden stars. He misses the way Hokuto kisses him as if he’s made out of oxygen, and he’s gasping for air. He misses the way Hokuto’s hands feel so comforting yet possessive. 

It’s how he knows that he’s back to where he should have stayed. 

All the glorious things in his life pale in comparison to what he feels when he’s with Hokuto. The world starts to turn again, all the colors come back to life, the sound is suddenly in a crescendo, an allegro, and the weight on his shoulders disappear. 

He deepens the kiss in desperation, in need of more, of Hokuto, and everything that comes with him, and he doesn’t mind it at all when Hokuto crashes against him in the tub. The taller only keeps kissing him, adjusting his frame to the space they have in the tub, and he’s never felt more whole when he feels Hokuto’s body against his. 

He doesn’t mind the way Hokuto’s clothes get wet, how it reminds him of the days they used to fool around, especially that evening they went to the beach and went skinny dipping together, and when the world was still spinning, and life was uncomplicated. 

His hands are running over Hokuto’s, trying to get him out of his clothes too, and it’s a hurry he’s never experienced before because they never had to hurry before. Now, there’s the promise of only tonight, the time against them, and he just wants to get as much as he can. He gets his hands on the back of Hokuto’s neck, tangling his fingers in Hokuto’s dark locks, longer than he remembers them to be, but still perfect between his fingers.

_ Hokuto. Hokuto. Hokuto. Hokuto. Hokuto—  _

The sharp pain of teeth digging down into his lips brings him back, and he lets out a small moan, mixed in pain and pleasure. He suddenly feels again. His body remembers how it felt to be alive. To be in love. 

He wants Hokuto closer, closer than he’s ever been, and he doesn’t know if any pulling, any begging, or any wishes in the world can bring him that, but he will try. As long as Hokuto allows him, he will try.

His emotions get the best of him, his eyes start to water again, falling onto his cheeks and into the tub, and it’s getting harder to keeps them in check. It’s too much, everything, Hokuto, his feelings, their memories, their story, their future. 

“Hoku—”

_ “AND CUT!” _

The director’s voice echoes through the set, and they break apart, just enough to catch their breath and stare at each other. Both are obviously lost in their own thoughts, and it had been so close, so close for Taiga to lose himself and utter Hokuto’s name, and not his character’s. 

They had been chosen for these roles in this movie for a reason they guessed, and the more they progressed in the film, the more evident it became. The line between the characters and themselves started to blur, and with each scene, they feared they’d slip up. 

The staff hurry over and bring them towels to dry them off, and they share a quick look before they’re ushered to the side to ensure they don’t catch a cold. He tries to find Hokuto’s eyes again, tries to communicate with the other, but it’s hard with all the fussing staff in between them, and it takes them 30 minutes, and a new set of dry clothes before they get a second together. 

Without missing a beat, they sneak off alone to the bathroom stall at the end of the corridor that no-one uses, or barely anyone does, at least. 

Once inside, once the lock is in place, and they have the room all to themselves, they grab at each other, continuing the kiss from before. It’s less desperate but more passionate, and they care less about the wrinkles in their clothes and more about stealing the other’s breath away.

“You idiot, why did you start crying when it wasn’t in the script?” Hokuto hisses at him when they break apart for air, more concerned about that part rather than the way he almost uttered his name. “You had me worried.”

“Was hard….” 

“Yeah, I notice,” Hokuto clicks his tongue as he runs a hand over Taiga’s growing erection, and the older male bites his earlobe in response. 

“Was hard to focus because I kept thinking it was real,” he bites back, grabbing Hokuto’s hair to make him face him properly. “I thought we only had a few more hours together, don’t blame me.”

He sees how Hokuto’s eyes soften before he leans in and kisses him gently and assuringly.

“It’s just a script, Taiga. I’m still here.”

“It could have been us.”

Hokuto doesn’t say anything back, only dips Taiga’s head back to capture his lips again, wasting no time, feeling his partner up through their dry clothes. They’re going to ruin them probably, but it’s okay. They’ll change into their set clothes later anyway. 

Taiga gasps as Hokuto return his hand over his crotch, feeling the way he reacts to the touch of the younger’s fingers, and he returns the feeling by running his hands over Hokuto’s abs. 

“How do you want it?” Hokuto breathes in between gasps as they discard enough clothing to get the friction and skin contact they crave.

“Just, do something quick,” Taiga hums as he drags his lips along Hokuto’s jawline, savoring each second he gets when he continues down his neck. “I’d love to have you do me against the sink, but I guess I can wait until we get home.”

Hokuto’s cock twitches in his hands as he speaks about the things they could possibly do, and he knows how much it affects Hokuto, and it’s part of why he does it too. The taller groans as he pulls Taiga’s face back up to kiss him deeply again to distract him. 

This is the only kind of oxygen he needs to survive.

It works, as Taiga barely notices the way the other wraps his wiry fingers around the both of them until he starts to stroke them off, the friction godsent and incredible. 

He breaks apart from Hokuto, only to cling to him, lips against his ear as he whispers words of praise to him between moans, and while he tries to keep his voice down, it’s hard, literally hard, when Hokuto is doing wonders between them. It all just feels so good, and with each second, each stroke, he can feel his anxious feelings and worries wash away. 

Reality has never been better. 

He mumbles incoherent words as he closes in on his release, and he spurs Hokuto on with his voice, guides him through both of their orgasms that they empty into Hokuto’s hand.

They share small kisses and caresses as they try to tidy themselves up as well as they can before they have to be on set again. Hokuto has to stop Taiga from kissing him any further when the other leans in for a slow kiss.

“If you continue I really have to take you against that sink before we get home.”

Taiga rolls his eyes at his partner, but he listens anyway. They have to get back soon. 

“I’ll try to survive until then, you better make it worth the wait.”

He hears Hokuto snort behind as he walks out of the bathroom, adjusting his pants, and he knows that Hokuto will. He always does.

Always has.

Then, he remembers when Hokuto told him that he was always worth the wait. He would always wait for Taiga, no matter how long he would take. Maybe it was why Taiga resonated so much with his character in the movie because he also had someone who’d always wait.

He feels how the weight on his ring finger is missing, and for a brief moment he panics, but then he remembers that they tucked the rings away safely in their bags before the filming. 

Hokuto catches up to him, lacing his fingers with his, squeezing it reassuringly, they’ll do great, it’s going to be okay, and he holds it until they return to the set. 

He doesn’t care if it’s forever, he just wants to spend it with Hokuto.

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to write something along with a movie script setting turning fake and the reality is something wholly different. Well, here it is.  
> It's also very self-indulgent as I needed an outlet for some sad feelings I bottled up last night, so I'm sorry. Somewhere along the way, I decided I didn't want to turn into the devil just yet, and therefore, the happy ending. 
> 
> Anyways, ilu all ♥ stay safe and keep smiling ♥


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